


Soft, Sweet, and Short

by PumpkinChair



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fluff, If i can write sin, M/M, Rating may go up, Rev billdip, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6702895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinChair/pseuds/PumpkinChair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shot book of reverse billdip<br/>Dipper Gleeful/Will Cipher<br/>Uh mostly fluff <br/>It'll be a fun ride once I can write something other than fluff</p><p>Yo I'm in the process of rewriting the first like 10 fics because my writing has improved greatly  and they need a tune up so just hang tight my dudes</p><p>rewritten:<br/>Chapter 1 Smile<br/>Chapter 2 Day Off<br/>Chapter 10 Quad Lutz</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Rev billdip.
> 
> Always a warning I guess?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will doesn't know how to smile naturally so it always looks awkward on his face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote it so it's better now yay
> 
> Just wait til I rewrite the rest

Having a form that for most of his existence was not humanoid in origin, William never learned how to smile. He was, in all senses of the word, inexperienced. The muscles in his face twitched, protested, even trembled when he smiled, simply for it was not something they were used to doing. Often times it ended up more as a grimace, all teeth and tight lipped. Mason hated looking at it, he hated how awkward and uncomfortable the demon looked when it happened—he was cringing just thinking about it. However, smiles were not something to dislike, for William’s grin was a work of beauty, a gentle upturn of his lips, a natural, relaxed response to joy. As a perfectionist, Mason looked upon his servant’s smiling face with disdain, which he believed he had managed to keep entirely internal. Perhaps sensing his inner thoughts, or just by simply skimming his mind, William had figured out the Gleeful boy did not care for his smile. Occasionally Mason would find the demon practicing his smile in the mirror and even trying to force the proper shape with his index fingers against his cheeks. This left little red marks, which stood out greatly in contrast to his sickly pale skin. It was endearing to see him worry so much about what the brunet thought about his appearance. 

It only became a problem to Mason when the demon ceased smiling all together. Truly, he had come to love the crooked and borderline painful smile that crossed his lover’s face during their more private moments where there was no ridicule Mason had to endure for having an interest in the weak, useless soul he and his sister had enslaved only five years prior. Once they were adults and out of their grunkles’ care, Mason had planned on freeing William from his magical confines and starting a fresh life together, if the demon didn’t return to the nightmare realm that is. Of course, he’d never stay with him if he kept making him feel insecure. William was sensitive to other’s feelings and often times put theirs before his own, carrying the burden of his self-hate with carefully selected words and even more careful actions. This man, who teared up at the mere sight of a drooping flower, had attempted to eliminate the one thing that truly showed Mason he was okay, that he was happy and felt loved in his presence. Now though, his grin had taken on the painful grimace, the restraint and desire to please ever present in that look. Mason knew it was his fault William was behaving this way; it was always his fault when the demon was upset and sometimes it made him wonder why he even continued to love the man that enslaved him.

William liked affection. He craved both physical and verbal verification from Mason to assure himself of their relationship. It was hard to get such things as their relationship remained a secret to the public eye and even to his family’s suspectful gazes. He wondered, sometimes, as he lay awake at night, how different he’d be treated if they actually revealed their relationship. Ford definitely would not be pleased that his great nephew decided to spare and even love a being so easily manipulated and that holds unmeasurable power. Perhaps, Mabel would be relieved that Mason wouldn’t take Pacifica from her like she often believed since the blonde held such interest in him—Mabel was ever hopeful in their nonexistent relationship. But, back to the matter at hand, William no longer smiled for Mason, no longer showed his inner most feeling of joy and overall contentment for how he now lived. It was bothersome, and left Mason unsure. Perhaps William had finally grown tired of him and his forced indifference towards the demon when they were outside of his chambers. Mason tapped his pen against the journal laying across his desk, an irritated huff passing his lips. William wasn’t in the room at the moment, having been called away from organizing the brunet’s bookshelf by his sister. 

Blue eyes that had long ago lost their spark of life gazed over the worn spines of the books, halfway put back in alphabetical order. Many still lay on the floor, leaving most of the case empty, but for once the mess didn’t bother him. William always insisted that the novels and various journals be put back in order after Mason seemed to mix them up every time he pulled one from the shelf. Sometimes it was entertaining to the young man to watch his love fuss at him over the disorganized shelves. Hearing the door softly click shut, Mason was snapped out of his reminiscing by the demon’s return. His eyes flickered to the other man as he walked across the room, returning to the chore, not even sparing Mason a glance as he picked up another stack of books to sort, floating them beside him. 

Magic fascinated Mason in this instance as it always has. He was starved for the knowledge William possessed, even if he wasn’t very knowledgeable for a demon of his kind. Nevertheless, the way he used magic was graceful, beautiful and controlled as if it was a mere extension of himself. Standing from his desk, Mason used the magic he possessed to take the books from William and placed them back on the ground as he approached, his arms instantly winding around the smaller male’s waist. The demon’s vessel was a head shorter than the human, and fit so naturally within his arms. His body was cold as well, colder than what was considered natural for a human temperature. William soaked in the warmth of the other man as he leaned back, tilting his head up to give him a questioning look.

 

“Master?” He asked, voice soft and wispy, sweet sounding like the soft clink of wind chimes. His one visible eye was wide and curious, emotions swimming in the impossibly blue depths. Mason often got lost in that ocean, though he had no qualms with drowning if that was how he went. He pressed a gentle kiss to the demon’s forehead, watching as his lips twitched upwards at the tender display.

 

“You’ve been behaving different lately,” He commented, the fondness in his own gaze unwavering as he rubbed comforting circles in William’s hips to ensure him he wasn’t upset with him at the moment. Mason had quite a temper on him that the demon seemed to invoke on occasion without the intention to. It scared him quite a bit when he went into fits of blind rage, but it has never been too hard to handle. 

William turned in his arms to hold him in return, resting his head on Mason’s shoulder and inhaling his scent. He smelled of drying ink and old books, a smell of nostalgia and scholar.  It was a scent that was quickly becoming homely and on occasion William could almost forget about the mindscape and nightmare realm, as if he himself was becoming more humane. 

“I don't know what you mean,” William muttered, his stuttering and averted gaze giving way to his falsehood. Of course Mason would notice his change in behavior as he noticed all things about William.

“You have not bared yourself to me as you usually have,” Mason sighed, threading one hand through the demon's soft, blue hair, holding him flush against his chest. “I only wish to see you smile, William, why do you not?”

Will knew he was about to cry, to sob and spill out all of his pent up emotions, but he held back, his teary eyed gaze focused on the piles of books around them instead of his lover. 

“You don't like it,” He stated, though it sounded more like a question, as if he was searching for the answer to his insecurities. Mason huffed above him, hold tightening.

“I can't say that I love it,” He paused as William whined, seemingly embarrassed and struggling to escape his hold now. He wanted to hide, to avoid this conversation and return to their normal routine. But, of course, luck had never been a good friend of William's. “but it's your smile, I know you're happy when you smile; I know you know you're loved when you smile; I know your anxiety has quieted and contentment has settled in its place when you smile. So please,” He cleared his throat, pretending as if his voice didn't crack, “Show me your smile.”

William had settled down as he spoke, letting the words sink in and replay through his thoughts. A grin easily spread across his lips, though it didn't stop there. He was smiling, bright and wide up at his lover and Mason could do nothing but stare. It was nothing like the crooked, disproportioned smile William usually wore, for it was natural and for the first time he could see the demon had dimples. The shock on his face must have shown because William dropped the smile, shyly looking away again.

“I know you didn't like my smile so I tried very hard to-”

“William that was beautiful; you're beautiful.” Mason cut off his nervous rambling, placing slow kisses across his face before finally cupping his chin and tilting William's face up, molding their lips together in a gentle kiss. He could feel the demon's lips trembling under his own, and felt the tears slide around his fingers, but he continued to hold him in place, trying to convey his feelings where words couldn't. 

Eventually, he released the demon and wiped his tears, cooing softly to calm him. William continued to blubber over his relief, clinging to Mason's wrists as he held his cheeks. It took a few minutes and a couple more kisses before William was calmed back down, his face reddened from crying. He was beautiful, eye shimmering with tears, and grin wobbly. Mason wore a smile of his own as he gazed down at him, fondness in his eyes and unending love. He rubbed his thumbs over those plush cheeks for a few more moments before letting his hands fall.

“I'm sorry William, Will, for making you feel this way.” William just shook his head, clinging to him in that way he did when he wasn't satisfied with the bit of affection he was given; he was desperate for it. 

“I'm sorry I didn't know such a basic muscle movement.” The demon mumbled, clenching his small hands in the back of Mason's shirt, the fabric soft between his fingers; he'd probably have to iron it back out later. It was just like William to apologize for something that wasn't remotely his fault, and Mason let out a huff, scooping up the man into his arms and carrying him to the bed on the far side of the room.

“I think we should take a day for just us. Would you like that?” The human asked as he set William onto the bed, crawling up after him and peppering his face with kisses.

“I'd like that a lot.” William laughed, a bright, happy sound that Mason could listen to for all eternity, and with a shared smile, they spent the day curled up in bed, undisturbed by the outside world.


	2. Day off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets sick, doesn't know he's sick, works anyway, and collapses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewrite #3

A throbbing headache was the first thing Will noticed when he woke up. He gasped for breath from the sheer pain of it, the rhythmic throbbing behind his tired eyes leaving him disoriented. His face burned with a fever, his cheeks and forehead feeling the heat and pressure of built up blood. He put it off as some odd occurrence of the human body, as he still wasn’t used to all the different aspects of it. It was still a mystery of how the human body functioned, and he’d just recently grasped the respiratory system. He went about his usual routine, albeit a lot less graceful as dressing proved a challenge when Will couldn't seem to still his hands long enough to button his vest, and the many layers he had to wear felt stuffy on his clammy skin. As he leaned down to tie his shoes, his vision swam with a lightheadedness washing over him so he decided to just leave them off; he’d come back to them later.

  
With a runny nose, the dream demon set about doing his chores; sweeping and making breakfast for his master and mistress went fairly well—he only fell asleep three times—but laundry and dusting gave him some challenges. Folding clothes and carrying them were hard to do with no balance, so he ended up just leaving them in baskets in the laundry room. He was gasping for breath with each chore, his shaking limbs feeling like lead and his movements more sluggish. He was exhausted from only a few hours of work and he constantly found himself dozing off. It hurt to swallow, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to simply exist, and Will considered breaking apart his human body, but that would break the deal he had with the Gleeful twins.

  
Exhausted, and overheating from a fever, the demon's synthetic body decided to shut down for the time being. He had been in the living room, dusting as he did every morning. Will’s heavy eyelids closed for a final time as he dropped to the floor, laid out before the fireplace he had previously been cleaning. His head hit the carpet with a soft thud, his breathing labored. His face was flushed and sweating, but all his pain was ignored as he finally got the rest he needed.

  
Mason woke up usually only a half hour after Will; he was never a heavy sleeper due to insomnia, and hearing his servant move round usually woke him up. Normally, around this time, Will would be knocking on his door to greet him and coax him into getting breakfast, so when there was no sound or movement, the brunet was a bit perplexed. The brunet didn’t bother getting dressed before he left the room, grouchy from the break in his routine. It was silent in the halls, his socked feet mutely shuffling across marble floors. Mason kept his eyes peeled for any sight of the demon, but he didn’t appear to be in the residential wing of the mansion, nor was he in the kitchen or library.  
The Gleeful boy had located him on accident, really. Will just happened to be passed out in Mason’s favorite room: the den beside the front door, the one that gave a beautiful view of the yard and forest beyond. He looked down at the demon as he approached, mild disinterest on his face as he nudged Will with his foot, receiving a groan from the being. Mason could see his sweaty and flushed face, the heavy rise and fall of his chest; it was disgusting. He didn’t like sick people, didn’t like the germs or the sickly look. He contemplated leaving him there, letting him suffer on the floor, but Will looked so pitiful, so helpless―even more so than usual―and Mason couldn’t bring himself to turn a blind eye.

  
With a grimace on his perfect face, Mason levitated the demon into his waiting arms―though he misgauged his weight and almost dropped him. Huffing in exertion, Mason began the long trek back to his own chambers, not even entertaining the idea of stepping foot in Will’s broom closet of a bedroom. For all the jostling Mason put Will through, he never woke up. Will curled his hands into the young man’s silk pajama shirt, clinging tighter every time he was shifted. His entire being felt like lead, like he was drowning in some kind of fever dream. Tiredness weighed down his eyelids and left him in a restless sleep, breathing ragged and painful.

  
Mason could only scrunch up his face in disgust as Will breathed―breathed―on him, head resting on his shoulder like a dead weight. Mason wasn’t particularly strong in comparison to those around him, and he could already feel his arms shaking from carrying Will this far, but there was something warm about holding him. He knew Will’s body wasn’t a real human one, a weak imitation he threw together after many days poured over anatomy texts. Everyday he was doing tune ups to his form, implementing new systems and life-like replicas of a normal human body. Mason could feel Will’s heart beating against his arm, his lungs rapidly filling and expelling air. In all the time Will had worked for them, he’d never fallen ill, never even shown symptoms of being anything but in relatively perfect health.

  
With more difficulty than it should have been, Mason managed to open the door to his room, pushing it the rest of the way open with a few kicks. Shuffling over to his bed, Mason dropped Will in the middle of his mused bedding, a relieved sigh falling from his lips. Perhaps he should work on his physical strength some more. Will stirred as his back hit the cold covers, fever glazed eyes squinting into his surroundings. Confusion colored his features as he tried to sit up, sniffing up a running nose.  
Mason pushed him back down with uncharacteristically gentle hands, shushing the protests from the demon. He tucked Will into the covers and fixed him with a glare as he leaned back, hands on hips to survey his handiwork. Will was tucked up to his chin in blankets, his sleek black hair a mess among the pillows. Mason’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the sight and he had to turn away, clearing his throat to gather himself.

  
“Take a nap,” He ordered, absolute authority in his voice as he addressed Will. The demon gave a weak hum in protest, wiggling his arms free of their confines. He made no move to get up again, which Mason was grateful for.

  
“I’m fine, really, no need to worry about me, sir,” Will’s voice was weak, muffled, heavy with sickness and sleep and it was kind of gross―but also endearing and Mason wouldn’t be caught dead with such thoughts in his head. Mason left no room for argument with a raised hand. The demon quieted back down, settling deeper into the covers. He could feel sleep pulling at him once again, a gentle insistence he wasn’t used to. He put up a losing fight against it and his eyes closed of their own accord, his breathing beginning to even out. “Thank you,” He huffed, falling back into sleep without much other prompting.

  
Mason sighed, quiet just in case, and ran a hand through his sleep mused curls. It was good Will was getting the rest he needed, but now there was no one else to do the days chores. He supposed he would just have to wing it as some kids his age said, starting with locating some sort of cold medicine for Will, hopefully the grossest and strongest that the demon usually spooned him during his own sickened days. With quiet steps, the Gleeful boy stepped out of the room, taking one last look at the sleeping demon on his bed before closing the door with a rare, private smile on his lips.


	3. Florals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I attempted a A/B/O thing
> 
> I just realized how shitty these are but this ship doesn't get enough love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/B/O dynamics
> 
> For those who don't know, it's Alpha/Beta/Omega and really educate yourself, it's everywhere

Heavy rain drops tap quietly against the roof of the estate in a soothing rhythm. It had been five years since William was brought to the estate to be the mate of the young master. Both families of high nobility believed it would be in their best interest to marry the young adults. 

Will always found these quiet, rainy nights to be the most relaxed. On these days Mason, or Dipper as his family referred to him, would express his affection for his husband, albeit silently. The blue haired omega never minded his alpha's quiet nature or cold personality. They fit nicely together, foil personalities comfortably living.

Currently, William was tidying up Mason's study as said man sat at the desk, reading. No words where spoken between the two, but a growl of warning could be heard every time Will dropped a book. Though he'd never physically harm him, the reprimand was enough to make the smaller man quake and lower his head.

He blamed it on his instincts, the fear, the anxiety of being anywhere without his alpha to shield him from prying eyes. William smelled like flowers, a deep floral scent that tickled they noses of anyone he passed. Mason always liked that scent, sometimes drawing it out on purpose just to breath it in. He himself smelled of old books and drying ink, of earthy tones and rain. His scent just made him appear even more studious than he was.

Lifting his eyes from his book, the alpha watched his lover stand up on his tip toes to put a book on the top shelf, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He'd never admit it to anyone, but he found the other's clumsiness endearing in an irritating sort of way. Typically, he wouldn't accept anything less than perfection in everything around him, but Will was different. He gave him purpose and made him feel complete.

"William, come here." There was no malice in his tone as he set the book down, watching the omega shuffle over to his side, fidgeting nervously. Mason hummed a flat note as he guided Will down into his lap, shifting him around until they were both comfortable.

"Are you tired of your book..?" Will asked, voice soft and curious, his hands searching for Mason's to hold. The brunet only responded by burying his face into his husband's neck and inhaling deeply, dragging his tongue harshly over his pulse to draw out his scent. Will let out a breathless laugh, a pleasant blush spreading across his cheeks.

It was one of those days were intimacy wasn't rejected, where he could show affection without reprimand. He could touch and hold and kiss with no worries. "I love you." The words were blurted, an afterthought on Mason's part. He didn't voice his feelings often and typically he got too embarrassed to say anything, but with Will curled up on his lap and allowing him to nip at his skin without even a whimper of pain, he decided he deserved those affectionate words he desired so much.

William smiled, shaky and bright as he laced their fingers together and squeezed, a giddy warmth spreading in his chest. "I love you too." He never spoke above a whisper, worried about disturbing the peace of the silence around them. Lightning flashed behind the windows, illuminating the room with a momentary golden glow. Mason nuzzled up his jaw until he could reach his lips, placing firm kisses there.

Albeit one for gentleness, the omega knew such softness was foreign to alphas and this one in particular had a hard time holding back. Will returned the kisses with a hum,  parting his lips once sharper than normal canines nipped at them. There was no sensuality in the kiss when Mason pushed his tongue into the smaller male's mouth, exploring territory he already claimed, it was just an act of intimacy. He liked feeling close to Will, loved the chill of his skin against his own when they touched. The omega was so fragile, constantly needing attention and reassurance in everything he did. Mason didn't mind most of the time, but sometimes it was too much.

He supposed he'd just have to adjust more to him, work on letting little things go. Will parted from the kiss with a soft sigh, mumbling something soft and sweet in the alpha's ear before he was promptly picked up and carried to their shared room for some more comfortable cuddling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where I was going with this


	4. Flower Shop Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RD gets frustrated in a flower store getting forget- me- nots for Will 
> 
> Bonus: he's allergic to pollen
> 
> Bonus bonus: funny ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of getting a new phone (one that works) have a new chapter even though I posted yesterday 
> 
> Enjoy

Flower shops were the bane of Dipper's existence. The sweet, floral smells were overwhelming in a small building and his senses were always assulted when he walked near these shops. He sniffled a few times as he looked around with a purpose, a disgusted grimace on his face. No one was going to walk up to him and offer help, put off by his aggressive aura. Receiving help from others always made him feel weak and useless, needing another human being to assist him in simple tasks. His blue eyes scrutinized the flowers in front of him as he searched for the kind and color he was looking for, thinking back to why he was there in the first place.

_Dipper had decided one afternoon to take a walk, imploring Will to come along with him. He never liked letting the demon out of his sight or letting him stay in the estate by himself. The woods behind the house were extravagant and vast, offering a safe haven for anyone that needed a few moments escape from the outside world. Both he and Will knew these areas well and occasionally they'd take walks such as this. They walked side by side in silence,  Dipper focused on the path ahead of them while Will surveyed the land around them with a curious gaze, almost tripping a few times from the lost vision of being half blind. He trotted along with his lover, sticking close to assure him he wouldn't run off. Dipper was possessive and, sometimes unintentionally, cruel. He always worried Will would leave him or someone would come and steal his demon away from him. William himself had developed a Stockholm syndrome dependence on the human and rarely went anywhere without him. He loved him deeply out of desperation, out of the will to survive. He didn't mind this unhealthy relationship,  however, between the two; it gave him something to focus on and get him through the day._

_Throughout the walk, Will kept stopping to admire the flowers blooming, telling his stoic boyfriend about their meanings and which ones were his favorite. He knealed in front of one patch of flowers, gently petting the flowers with his fingertips with a sigh of, "these are my favorite."_

That was a few days ago and now here he was, nose running as he searched for Forget-Me-Nots. Blue ones to be exact. Dipper let out a huff of relief when he found them--his eyes had begun to water-- and quickly he paid for the small bouquet before leaving, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve and breathing through his mouth.

He was careful with the flowers on the way back to the house, his allergies bothering him greatly. If it was for anyone else, he would have gotten someone else to buy them, but Will was his everything and only the best for what's his.

Will was there to greet him at the door,formally like he had been taught all those years ago. He stood up straight, barely reaching the man's chin, and bowed politely,  stepping aside to let the young master in. "Welcome back Mr. Gleeful. I-is there anything I can help you with?" The demon smiled sweetly, though his calm look did nothing to distract Dipper from his shaking. Will was always shaking, always fidgeting and jumpy,  as if there was something to be afraid of in the house, well, anything besides his sister and uncles. 

"Get these flowers out of my sight." Dipper huffed,  a nasily sound. He held them out to his lover, indicating they  were for him. Will's breath caught as he looked at the flowers after accepting them into his arms, gently touching the petals. 

Forget-Me-Nots; everlasting love. The language of flowers was the first thing Will ever learned about this plane of existence and it meant so much to him that Dipper would get him something so moving. Gently, the demon set the bouquet down on the side table beside him before leaning up to place a kiss on Dipper's lips, a gentle smile on his face.

"Thank you.."He mumbled against his lips, drawing a sigh from the taller male as he wrapped his arms around Will's waist. Dipper returned the kiss, pleased with the response his moment of romantic display had brought. They shared a few sweet kisses in the foyer, not bothering to shut the door, before Dipper sneezed in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would really help me out if you all would leave comments on what you think and what I could improve BC I know these aren't the best by any means and i'd love for my writing to at least be competent!   
> Thanks much, momo


	5. Halloween special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I interrupt my regularly scheduled program for a Halloween special a few weeks early

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk what this is it's late

Will had never seen the appeal in dressing up as something your not and parading around for an evening begging strangers for candy or vandalizing said strangers. It seemed wrong to him and a promotion of the wrong things. 

The Gleefuls, however, loved Halloween. Dipper in particular enjoyed the holiday. The manor was always decorated expertly and they threw a party every year, inviting nearly anyone of standard. It seemed alright at the time until Will was informed he'd be attending as well. Now, he loved his boyfriend, he did, but dressing up was not his idea of a good time. Especially when said man insisted Will be little red riding hood. 

So here he is now, huddling awkwardly in the corner of the ballroom while his lover enjoyed the festivities, the holiday making him oddly friendly and enthusiastic. Will picked at non-existent lint on his dress, ballet flat covered feet clicking together idly as he stood by. The music thumped in time with his heart, making it feel impossible to breathe, like he had no choice but to follow along. People around him were laughing and chatting, relishing in the company. 

Dipper had noticed Will's gloominess a while ago, choosing to let him be for a few hours before finally whisking the miserable demon away from the festivities. The pair took a walk around the neighborhood, silent as they watched children scurry about. Occasionally Will would question what the children were dressed as and Dipper would answer, amused his demon knew so little.

"What's that supposed to be?" Will asked, pointing to a little boy dressed in a crude representation of a demon, little horns on his head and a tail haphazardly sewn into his clothes.

"That's a demon." Dipper replied, not missing his boyfriend's face screw up in disgust at the very idea. It sickened him to no end to see such a misinterpretation of his people casually displayed in the streets by children. Will shook his head, hood falling from his curls as he denied it, vehemently.

"No.. no demon I've ever seen." His voice was a soft huff, his hand reaching beside him to hold Dipper's own. The night had drawn on that way, stars twinkling above their heads as they watched the streets clear, the chirping crickets calming Will. The chill in the air had him keeping close to Dipper until he began to get tired, falling a bit behind. 

He yawned softly,  his shoes skidding against the sidewall and almost tripping him. Dipper promptly stopped then and kneeled, instructing Will to climb on to his back. He'd carry him back home since he was the reason they walked so far in the first place.

Reluctantly, he relented, letting the Brunet hoist him up and hold his stocking covered legs. Idly, Will fussed with the wolf ears on Dipper's head, his own resting on the man's shoulder. It was ironic to think that they would be little red riding hood and the wolf, a perfect representation of them. Will was soft and defenseless, too trusting and dense, whereas Dipper was cunning and strong. They melted together in a form of acceptance and support.

Will was blessed with the soft sound of Dipper humming a Halloween tune in a flat key as he fell asleep in the man's hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have other stuff coming


	6. Bitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vampire Dipper Pines bites his mortal boyfriend in a loss of self control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Halloween stuff bc I'm not satisfied with the previous one
> 
> Also I'm doped up on Nyquil while writing this you have been warned

The centuries of loneliness a vampire faces are unparalleled. Creatures of blood sucking origin are typically scorned and feared much the same way as criminals. Mason Pines was no criminal, however. He was a moody vampire that never seemed to get enough to drink. He was grumpy and snappy, though that all seemed to melt away when he was with his lover.

Will was a kindhearted mortal, no fear evident for the vampire. He trusted Mason with all of his heart that he would do no harm to him. It was naïve, as the creature always pointed out, but Will seemed unphased by the way the brunet would hiss or groan whenever his adrenaline spiked or if he hurt himself. It took a lot of self control not to sink his teeth into supple flesh. 

To Mason, Will smelled like the sweetest candy known to man. His blood pumped through him like liquid sugar and on occasion his mouth watered at the thought. He wanted to hold Will so intimately against him, get his adrenaline to raise just to hear his blood rushing to close to him, his heart beat driving his instincts wild. He wanted to bite him, deep, listening to those delicious pained whimpers Will made when he was hurt and watch the color quite literally drain from his face. He wanted to kill his lover in the most painfully pleasureful ways.

The vampire shook his head to clear those thoughts away, listening to Will hum from the kitchen. He couldn't think that way, couldn't enjoy thinking that way. He'd told himself Will would never be harmed by his hands or another's. Will was making dinner for them both, a simple soup to match the chilly weather of the new fall season. They were going to spend Halloween together watching old vampire films so Will could listen to Mason complain about the inaccuracies they suggested. "I'm not a monster," he said once, "I don't go crazy over the scent of blood."

Though he believed that to be true, the strong sugary copper smell of Will's blood as he nicked his finger cooking had him upon him in seconds, pupils dilated large as he held Will's hurt hand, staring down at the blood. The scent was so strong and Will's heart was just thumping erratically...

No. He couldn't. Mason groaned, squeezing his eyes shut to control himself. Will was calling out to him, asking if he was alright when he should have been worried about himself. He knew the mortal was kind, but his self preservation was at an unnaturally low level and it was quite concerning. Without even thinking, Mason was dragging his tongue over the open wound, collecting the beading blood into his mouth with a satisfied hum.

It was even more delicious than he imagined and it left him starving, craving more of the delectable life substance from his partner. He started at Will with dark blue eyes as he inspected his neck, looking for a good spot to bite. He began to panic then, squirming a bit in his grip as Mason nuzzled his neck, swiping his tongue across it to clean the area.

"Relax." He commanded, and Will obeyed, compliant to the Vampire's wishes. No mortal could disobey their influence. He sighed against his skin, his rational half telling him this was wrong while his instincts were telling him to feed. Will was compliant in his arms, what was stopping him from drinking all he liked?

Without further delay, he sank his sharpened fangs deep into the flesh of Will's neck, his startled pained cry music to his ears. Almost immediately, warm blood flooded his mouth and he held Will closer, his soft cried and pleas drowned out by the sound of his rushing blood. Mason drank his fill, shoving from the pure euphoria of drinking such rich blood. He licked the wound on Will's neck to heal it before he noticed the glassy look in his eyes. He'd nearly killed his boyfriend... again. Sighing, he scooped the man up into his arms and carried him off to bed. 

He wouldn't become the monster portrayed by TV if he had a source of food and the ability to erase those unwanted memories.


	7. Siren song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper is a siren in captivity and Will is the marine biologist assigned to him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got a viral infection and I've been sick for.... A long time.  
> 

Will fumbled around with the folders in his arms, almost tripping over his shoes as he made his way into the aquarium. The biologist had been given a chance of a life time to study a mythical creature brought to light. He had been instructed not to get in the water and under no circumstances was he to remove the muzzle on the creature. He straightened out his clothes as he approached the tank, standing in front of the high glass wall and peering up at the siren. The latter stared back at him, unmoving in the water. He looked so miserable in the tank, eyes void of life.

Will only got to look him over for a few minutes before he was being ushered away. They needed to fully brief him on his position here and what he was and was not allowed to do. The blunet didn't mind all the rules, seeing as he got to study this fascinating hybrid. Reluctantly, his new boss let him up to the top of the tank where he could introduce himself to the siren and explain his role. Both nervous and excited, Will sat on the platform, careful to keep his feet out of the water. It was said sirens were extremely dangerous with sharp claws and spikes. Hopefully, they could be friends and benefit from this experience. Though, it would probably be more fun for Will than the other.

Dipper rose to the surface and crossed his arms over the platform inside the tank. It was much like a tank for animals to do tricks, but this platform was for him to lay in the sun if he so chose. The young siren stared, unimpressed at the fidgety biologist, eager to get this over with. Will offered him a sweet smile and held out his hand before remembering he wasn't allowed to touch him and pulled back.

"Hello, my name is Will.. I'll be studying you from now on.." He began, flipping through his notes. There didn't seem to be a name for the siren but he was labeled as Dipper due to the mark on his forehead. Will found it quite charming and decided to comment on the fact, getting a scoff in return. No way was Dipper letting a human butter him up so easily.

Their relationship started out strictly professional; scientist and subject. But after Will began working later at the aquarium, Dipper got more restless and playful; in a way. It started with simply splashing water at Will when he wasn't looking or making notes, trying to hinder his progress. Will figured it was his way of trying to get him to stop, so eventually he just used a tape recorder instead of pen and paper. The thought didn't even cross his mind that Dipper might also be curious about him until one night when he was pulled into the water.

Will had just finished his oral notes, carefully placing everything in his bag. Dipper lingered near by, which was different from usual. Normally he would swim away or flick water at Will for wasting his time, but the silence reminded the scientist he was a hunter a moment too late. As Will went to stand and pick up his bag, the siren had grabbed his ankle and pulled, hard enough to get the blunet tumbling backwards into the pool. He sputtered as he struggled to stay afloat, trying not to pay attention to the way Dipper circled him like prey.

Will was forced back everytime he could near the edge and he couldn't help but be afraid. He wasn't the best swimmer and he was running out of stamina fast. He couldn't tread water forever. It became less of a struggle when Dipper slipped his arms around him from behind, running a hand across his neck. Will's blood ran cold when he felt the bite of those sharp claws against his skin and tried to lean away from it, causing Dipper to growl at him.

It only took a few minutes of Dipper's annoyed huffing and awkward petting for Will to figure out he was searching for gills. He finally had to put a stop to it when he felt his nose nuzzle his flesh, wet hair clinging to his skin. "I don't... I don't have gills.." Will wheezed between labored breaths, causing Dipper to snap his head up. For a moment he looked annoyed, then the next he was setting the scientist on the platform, looking away out of sheer embarrassment and refusal to apologize. 

Quickly, Will scrambled out of the pool, awkwardly making his way down the stairs as his clothes clung to him awkwardly. He made the mental note to actually share a bit about humans as they discussed, not wanting to end up in this sort of situation again. Maybe he should learn how to swim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so late and shitty
> 
> Also there will probably be more to this au as their relationship develops


	8. Merry Christmas Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper had been waiting under the mistletoe for hours for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I interrupt my scheduled program for Christmas.
> 
> I might make a one shot book dedicated completely to Christmas because I love it so much.
> 
> I also have a orchestra Willdip one shot written out I'm just too lazy to type it.

Dipper was a little frustrated. Okay, a lot frustrated. This mistletoe in the living room doorway had been hanging over his head for hours now as he waited for his lover to walk by. He wanted to pull his demon in, make a show of spinning and dipping him then slowly plant a kiss on those trembly lips. A rather romantic notion if he said so himself. He was quite proud of himself for this one. Will loved all the cliché romance novels and movies, the awed look on his childish face just making Dipper fall deeper in love with him. He knew so little of humanity and feelings, but he seemed addicted to cheesy romance.

Dipper ran a hand down his face as he continued to stand there, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned on the doorframe, a bored expression on his face. He'd been avoiding his family everytime they walked by, a bit of shame burning his cheeks if they ever came close to discovering him. Affection was cast aside in the Gleeful household in exchange for power, but despite knowing that, Dipper would trade his life for Will's. They were magically linked, which he later learned was very intimate to beings of the demon's kind, and it gave him a thrill knowing he had seemingly endless power. But what gave him a bigger thrill was seeing a smile on his lover's face when Dipper tried to be romantic. He'd go through endless internal shame to see that masterpiece.

Dipper straightened up when he heard the soft padding of shoes that could only belong to Will. Everyone else had heavy footsteps that expressed their class and authority. He waited patiently, smiling when he heard the soft tune of  _Holly Jolly Christmas_ hummed by Will. As soon as the demon was in grabbing range, Dipper seized his hand and tugged him in close, chuckling as the demon tripped over his own feet with a startled noise and fell against his chest. "Merry Christmas." He whispered as he leaned close, brushing his nose against Will's and letting his warm breath tickle his face.

Will recovered from his shock quickly as he glanced up to spot the mistletoe, a shy smile on his lips. "Merry Christmas." He breathed in reply before the brunet's lips were covering his in a slow kiss. The kiss held such intensity as Dipper held him close, wrapping both arms around his waist in an almost possessive way as he felt the demon's cold fingers slide through his gelled curls. Holding back his grin, Dipper slowly bent over until Will was dipped back, a laugh escaping him. It sounded so sweet and light on Dipper's ears, sending a delighted shiver down his spine that only Will could manage. 

Dipper pulled back from the kiss, staring down at Will with complete admiration. Why did he have to be so cute catching his breath like that, small hands curled into the front of Dipper's shirt to hold himself steady. In an instant he had Will up against the doorframe, claiming his lips in a bruising kiss filled of nips and heavy breaths; he was determined to taste his lover so completely in that very moment. When Will let out the most delicious choked moan, Dipper remembered why he tried being romantic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its short but who knows, maybe there's a sinful sequel in our future.
> 
> What do you guys think is the most romantic thing about Christmas?


	9. Too Many Years Fighting Back Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William is finally allowed to see the phantom's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the hiatus
> 
> i just got a laptop so to celebrate, and as a late Christmas present
> 
> its a phantom of the opera au but its very very very loosely based off of it since i know nothing about the phantom of the opera.
> 
> i hope you enjoy

I'd known the Phantom for a short while, long enough to know his name, though I can't say why I had even begged the man for it in the first place. He had become obsessed with me--I know now the extent of such was vast and haunting--and I worried not for myself. No, the Phantom would never harm me despite his merciless behavior. His love for me was suffocating and at times I found it hard to preform under his watchful eyes. My worries were no match for my curiosities, however, and I always found myself drawn back by his voice and mystery. One evening, one he graced with his presence, I had been so daring as to ask the man to remove his mask.

"Phantom," I said, confidence fleeting as I pressed on. "Will you show me your face? Will you remove your mask and bare your entirety to me?" His natural melancholy features twisted up in a grimace I saw only briefly as he turned away, cape fluttering behind him with only the sound of it whipping at the stale air. His posture was tense, I could tell, and instinctively my hand reached out to hold his, rubbing my thumb against his palm in slow, methodic circles. The Phantom relaxed, just slightly, as he turned to me again, blue eyes piercing right though my very being.

"William, I do not believe that to be a good idea," he started; his voice was gravely and heavy with emotion, with expected rejection and tense with fear. "My face is not something to be gazed upon." He was absolute in his reasoning, though he faltered with the look of determination in my eye. I wanted to see all of him, to experience the entirety of his being and this dreadful mask was preventing that. I stepped around the man to stand before him, gazing up at the masked side of his face. When I raised my hands, he made no motion to stop me, but squeezed his eyes shut to hide himself from any rejection if such should cross my face. Slowly as if to avoid startling him, I lifted the mask away from his skin, my breath catching in my throat. 

The withering look the phantom gave me shook my nerves. I would not be deterred, however, by my own insecurities. I reached out a tentative hand, brushing the pads of my fingers against the angry flesh of his face. The skin gave way under my touch, lacking the firmness the left side held. I was struck with remembrance of my own imperfection, a missing eye, blindness I couldn't shake. It followed me like the stench of death, lurking underneath my patch until attention was lavished on it. The phantom leaned into my hand, closing his eyes; he wanted to avoid the rejection surly coming to a front. I took a shallow breath and allowed my thumb to glide across his decaying cheek, a small smile twitching at my lips. I could understand his pain, to have the need to cover his face. 

"Beautiful." I had heard myself utter, a soft coo to draw the Phantom's attention. He did not bless me with his intense gaze in that moment, but it would not be for naught. He had heard the words leave my mouth, leaning just a bit father into my open palm. I hadn't known, then, what had happened to my beloved's face, but surely the blistering skin would not deter me from him, or him from I. I leaned up the several inches between us to press my lips to his, feeling him twitch in surprise beneath the firm press. I almost laughed, then, and I almost laugh now looking back on it. My beloved was startled, shocked more than he ever had been before. I, the man he devoted his very life to upon first laying eyes on, had graced him with a kiss. Half of his lips were smooth and warm, pliant yet firm under mine, and the other half were stiff and cracked, the aftermath of destruction affecting even them. He had sighed, the breath tickling my nose and lips as he released it along with his tensions. His arms, strong and sure, wrapped themselves securely around my small waist, respectively keeping their hands high. It was silent in the empty theatre, the moonlight shining in though exposed windows and illuminating the space around us.

His body was warm where I pressed against it, his lips more sure now as he responded to my advances. I believe, in that moment, the Phantom realized I would not abandon him like society had. He realized, then, the sincerity of my words and actions and graciously accepted them. He was a beautiful person in his soul and body and mind, and I willed him to understand the good I saw in him. I loved him, then, as I love him now. I loved him as he lead me up to the attic; I loved him as he laid his cape on the dusty wood for me to lay my back against; I loved him as gentle hands pealed off the cloth from my body, leaving me shivering yet heated to a degree I had never experienced, and I loved him as he loved me that evening. It was a love we shared so sweet it would last an eternity, disillusioning the world around us even if I could only meet him at night, tucked away inside the theatre to sing to our hearts content. And sing we did, most evenings, others we conversed and told tales of our past lives and hopes for the near and far future. The Phantom, I learned, was a dreamer. He dreamed big and bold and full of colors, while my dreams were softer, more practical in their realism. I found I preferred his dreams a whole lot more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know its in first person, and oddly enough i like it.
> 
> what do you guys think?


	10. Quad Lutz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's ice skating really

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rewrite #2
> 
> i wrote this instead of my new one shot oops

Will glided across the ice, the blades of his skates effortlessly carrying him forward, through each swivel and spin. He felt so free, weightless as he brought his leg straight up to his shoulder and held it there as he spun. His muscles burned and quivered in protest, lungs greedily sucking in oxygen. The skater slowly eased out of the spin, ignoring the hot tears streaking down his chilled cheeks in favor of skating, arms and chest puffed out as if he was floating, the scratching of his skates on the ice the only sound in the rink. He had come after closing time to let out some frustrations, and perhaps to punish himself. His ankles throbbed with how much time and pressure he put on them and his muscles were quickly becoming fatigued.

Will had no aspirations in life; he didn’t want to go to college but he also didn’t want to live with his parents all his life. Skating always seemed to make him forget his worries, his stresses and faults. His brother had always told him to compete, to make it a career, one he could be proud of, but Will always refused, his social anxiety preventing him from ever pursuing figure skating. Just recently, Bill had announced he was leaving Gravity Falls to attend college for his degree in theoretical physics, a life long dream of his. He wouldn’t becoming back for years, leaving Will brokenhearted and alone. It was earth shattering to the recently graduated teen for his older brother, the light of his life, to travel across the country and leave their small town. Of course, it was hard to be mad at the man when he saw the twinkle of excitement in his eye and that bright, hopeful smile.

Instead of lashing out selfishly, Will had come to the rink, mindlessly skating around until he’d begun to cry, releasing his true feelings on the matter. Fueled by pent up emotions, he skated elegantly, picking up speed and complexity as he sobbed, vision blurry and hands shaking. After an hour and some change of letting everything out, Will slid off the ice and removed his skates, carefully tucking them away into his bag and beginning his trek home, eyes bloodshot and breathing heavy. He decided, then, that he’d skate one last time for his brother, to show him everything their relationship meant to them in one performance.

 

Skating was neither a joy nor a release for Mason. Simply, it was something he was good at and could make money off of. He’d long ago lost the spark to perform, the raw emotion and joy drained from his performances. His smile still dazzled fans and he won competition after competition, but something was missing and it gnawed at him every second of every day. Mason was the best ice skater in the world, as he was told, and he had more fame than he knew what to do with. He even considered retiring with all the wealth he has accumulated and living a luxurious life alone, in his hometown in California. One day though, he got an email from his coach telling him to watch a video that had quickly gone viral throughout the ice skating community as the most elegant skating ever caught on camera. 

Shrugging his shoulders as he sipped his morning coffee, Mason pulled up the video on his phone, scoffing at the unprofessional camera work. In the video there was a man in the middle of the ice, an elegant arrangement playing in the background as the man began to skate, gliding effortlessly across the ice as if he truly had control, or rather he accepted he had no control. He performed elegant spins and twirls, holding his arms out to keep steady, though no onlooker would be able to tell was for balance and not for show. The raw look on his face took Mason’s breath away, the sadness deep in his blue eyes. The step sequence truly told a story he couldn’t help but sympathize with, and by the end Mason felt like he knew his tale. He could understand why this was the embodiment of elegance, one that rivaled Mason’s own skating. Setting down his coffee mug, the professional skater watched the video a few more times before calling his coach and demanding to know who this skater was, who his coach was, and where he could find him. 

 

Will nearly tackled his brother for the phone once he was off the ice, panic rising with his heartrate. “Bill you can’t post that!” He screeched as his brother held him back with one hand and hit the post button his thumb had been hovering over. He was grinning, wide and mischievous as he held his brother close, hugging him tightly to his chest after the video was uploaded  _ everywhere _ .

 

“Don’t you worry Will, your skating is beautiful I’m sure everyone who sees it will love it! Trust me, I know these things.” Throughout the years, Bill had become quite popular over social media, and even posted about Will, who hated his personal information being shared over the internet. His brother often boasted to people that will was a fabulous skater, but he could never supply any videos since Will was real stingy on not being recorded, but now Bill was going off to college and he couldn’t help but videotape his sweet baby brother skating so beautifully for him. Bill laughed and ruffled Will’s hair as he whined, slumping against him in defeat. There was nothing he could do to stop it now, and he was tired from the performance. He had almost started crying during it and even at the end he hid slid down to the ice, breathing ragged and lips quivering. Only when he looked up and saw his brother with his phone out did he realize he recorded it and all his sadness as momentarily replaced with panic. 

Now, being carried on his brother’s back on the way home, the depression had crept upon him again, causing him to press his face into his shoulder, his own shaking. “You alright, kiddo?” Bill asked, looking over at him, eyebrows furrowed in worry. Will cried a lot, sure, but typically there was a clear cause beforehand. It wasn’t like him to be sad; he was a happy kid. 

“You’re really leaving..” Will mumbled, voice thick with emotion as he looked up, unshed tears built up in the corner of his eyes. Bill melted at the sight; his brother was so cute. He shushed the blubbering young adult, setting him down on the front porch. He brushed away the stray tears on Will’s cheeks and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“Hey, no matter what, I’m only a phone call away, alright?” And thus, Will was satisfied for the moment.

 

Stepping off the plane, Mason looked around the airport. It was the least busy one he’d seen in awhile. It had taken a year to truly pin down the skater’s location, but now that he had it, the brunet was not willing to let him go. Carrying his things to a taxi outside, he gave the man the town he was looking for and they set off, his eyes bored as he stared out of the window. It had been a long time since Mason had left the city, and an even longer time since he did something on a whim. Of course, he was halfway hiding out from the ice skating community for competition season would be starting up again in a couple of months, and he didn’t truly want to decide yet if he was competing or not.

Gravity Falls was a quaint town with a few stores and attractions, and some very cute, small houses. Stopping the taxi in front of one of the larger houses, Mason paid the man for his services and took his bag before walking up the front steps of the two story house, not missing the flower beds along the sides. They looked professionally maintained and he could appreciate the display of some wealth. Mason knocked on the door and waited for a few moments before it opened, revealing a woman about a little over a head shorter than him. Her waist length black hair shimmered as the sun hit it, her smile dazzling.

“How may I help you?” She asked, laugh lines around her eyes crinkling as she gazed up at him, taking in his sharp features and almost bored expression. He looked down at the paper in his hand before speaking to her, flashing a toothy smile.

“Does William live here?” Mason asked, looking past her to gaze at the entryway of their home, the colors warm and inviting as any home truly should be. The woman, who he presumed to be Will’s mother nodded and turned away from him.

“Will there’s a cute man at the door for you!” She called before walking into the room to his left, the sound of a clattering plate following immediately after. Will came rushing down the hall into the foyer, a towel wrapped around his hands as he dried them, face beet red as he came into full view. Though, he quickly paled once he actually saw who was standing at the door.

“Um,” Came his intelligent greeting as he stared, rubbed his eyes incase he was dreaming, and stared some more.

“My name is Mason Gleeful-”

“-World famous figure skater, I know.” Will interrupted him, snapping out of his stupor as he shook his head, disbelief clear on his face.

“And I,” Mason continued as if he hadn’t just been interrupted, “came to see you skate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's definitely getting a part two


	11. Valentine's Day Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florist William and Antique shop owner Mason celebrate valentine's and a little something extra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy valentine's day! this got a little rushed at the end bc its like almost 2 m here but enjoy anyway
> 
> its much longer than any of my other works wow its almost 3,000 words

Romance was not something that came easily to Mason. Lightly stalking your soon to be significant other when he first opened shop on the quaint street and scaring him upon first meeting was not romantic. No, romance was not his forte, but William surely was worth all the thought and effort that went into planning such a superficial event, that certainly deserved to be an everyday occurrence, but nevertheless he was grateful for just a single day of the year where he could express all of his true emotions without feeling too embarrassed by their presence. William was his everything; he was his world, his sun, his moon, his stars, his universe and beyond. He’d do anything for this man, the too sweet florist who worked right across the street and laughed at all his poor attempts at jokes—and generally enjoyed them, might he add. Mason knew, had known, for a long time that William was the only one for him. It still drove him crazy that his boyfriend spent every waking moment surrounded by the revolting pollen that continued to assault his senses beyond what felt natural—it was definitely personal now; the flowers were driving him out, he was sure.

Standing before the counter of his family owned antique shop, Mason flipped through the post-it notes he had scribbled and re-scribbled all of his brilliant ideas onto. William would be working late that evening, seeing as this was one of his most demanding days of the year. He had roses practically pouring out of the shop—god, he could smell the offensive stench from here—and he could see how frazzled his boyfriend looked from his front window. Now it wasn't that Mason had no customers so he could just watch his boyfriend run around, but those that came in generally had no idea what they were looking for and wandered aimlessly through the store, admiring the odd knick-knacks and antiques Mason’s family sold; normally his sister would be manning the shop with him, but she was currently off wooing the local preschool teacher by volunteering in her classes for the day. He scoffed at the thought of hanging around a bunch of disgusting toddlers that didn’t know how to keep their hands out from where they shouldn’t be or how to perform basic tasks on their own. He’d rather spend the entire day in William’s shop, inhaling the heady scent of florals and allergens. 

Mason planned to close up shop early that day to ensure he had enough time to get everything he needed for what he had planned. Sure he had the most vital part—he’d had it for weeks—and the closer he got to this day, the more his confidence had begun to waver. The box burned a hole in his pocket, daring him to try and forget it was there, to lose it somewhere. But would William even accept? There was a slim chance he’d refuse; he was just was infatuated with Mason as he was in return. This rationality did nothing to quell irrational thoughts that often left the brunet irritated with himself for the entertainment of the improbable. He was a man of rationality after all. A realist at heart, it was honestly a surprise he became attached to the free-spirited and idealist across the street that seemed to pay no mind to what was or wasn’t possible. He supposed it was just something his curiosity was drawn to. Back to the matter at hand, Mason had to buy a card, figure out what he wanted to write inside, and well, how was he supposed to buy a rose for the only florist in town? It was cliche, so cliche it had his cheeks inflamed simply from thinking about it.  _ Get it together.  _ He huffed at himself, shaking away idle thoughts as the last of the customers filed out of the shop, leaving him to finally take another glance outside.  _ Was it that late already? _

 

William’s day had started a little shakily. He barely slept a wink the night before due to the anticipation of this day, of the bright men and women eager to bless their significant others with the refreshing breath only roses could provide. He’d always enjoyed their scent, and their complexity. Representations of the softest of loves, the purest, they protected themselves from natural enemies and even the florist himself. Often times he forgot to wear his gloves while picking the flowers and ended up pricking himself more than a few times on their unforgiving thorns. No harm done, he supposed, as he only gave more nutrients back to the soil through his drops of blood. Sometimes he liked to think it gave the red roses and even richer color, for no true love comes without sacrifice. Just as every other morning, William set out the flowers he had available, leaving some roses outside under protective shading so they wouldn’t wilt under the warming spring sun. He took a few deep breaths of the aroma to calm himself of lingering anxieties, mentally preparing himself for the influx of customers. He almost felt as if he was forgetting something in his concentration, but he couldn’t find an origin for it.

Customers poured in and out of the shop for the entirety of his extended work day, offering him little to no break time. Sometimes he envied his boyfriend, sitting at the front desk for hours on end with no real work to do. Though, he loved his job and the bright smiles of all the people he had the opportunity of talking to. Valentine’s day truly was one of the best holidays, in his opinion, with the raw, pure emotions shared between individuals in rare moments of vulnerability. In recent years, it had quickly become his favorite when he realized his significant other gave him the affections he was constantly seeking from their relationship. He loved Mason, deeply and truly, and he understood how intimate emotions were not ones he shared easily with others. He was like a rose, protective of himself with thorns prepared to cut indiscriminately if not handled with care. It was beautiful to watch him bloom into the person he was now, someone that was less cynical and vindictive towards the world. Some may even say he’d gone soft as most people do when love has opened their lives and hearts. Their relationship was slow coming, as William often feared the man that kept such a close watch on him without a single word, his gaze steady and unwavering no matter how visibly uncomfortable William seemed to become—later he had come to know Mason simply couldn’t find a way to speak with him without fear of embarrassing himself or avoiding his severe allergy of pollen. In the early stages of their relationship, and even friendship, the slightly older man would complain of the florist’s constant stench, blaming him for every sniffle, every runny nose he had to suffer through in his company. At first he thought he was generally upset by this, but after a bit of miscommunication and tears, all complaints seemed to vanish. 

Slumping down into the chair against one of the far walls, William let out a deep sigh of relief. The sign on the door now read  _ Closed _ and he could fully relax. His feet burned and throbbed in protest of his many hours of constant standing and running around, but now that the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, all his ailments seemed to melt away. The day was done, the night was young, and the florist had his own Valentine to share his company with soon enough. For now, though, he’d take a much needed breather and try not to succumb to the fatigue tugging at his eyelids.

 

Mason had long ago grown frustrated with card shopping, finding the process tedious as he never located the exact message he was hoping to convey. More than once had he considered making his own, but he always reminded himself he’d never put his horrid art skills on display, especially since William would have no problem keeping it for as long as the craft could withstand time. Lips pursed and arms crossed, he scanned over the gaudily decorated cards with equally cringey sayings. No, he needed something with meaning he couldn’t convey with speech alone—not that he was really eloquent at that either way. Plucking the simplest, and most serious, card from the rack, he quickly paid for it before beginning the walk back to his own shop. William would be finishing up for the day by time he returned, giving him enough time to write the message he wanted in the card and give himself one last pep talk before going through with his plan. 

The heat of the day had cooled off to a light breeze, brushing the brunet’s face with each pulse of the wind. It felt cold against his heated flesh, his heart beating fast in his chest. No other time in his life had he felt this nervous nor excited. It was a new experience for him to hold someone that wasn’t family dear to his heart and a small part of him was afraid William would decide to leave him. That was, of course, impossible, but even so, the thought gnawed at him as he approached his own shop and slipped inside, ignoring the way his hands shook as he fished the keys out of his pocket and let himself in.  _ Just a few minutes,  _ he told himself.  _ Just a few minutes to really be ready. _

 

William had changed out of his work attire and was tending to the flowers left in the shop when a timid knock sounded at the front entrance, causing him to jump slightly from the sudden sound. He turned to peer through the glass, wiping his hands on a nearby towel as he smiled, wide and warm. Propping the door open with his hip, he greeted his boyfriend with a soft hello, sensing his nervousness.

 

“Do you, by chance, have any roses for sale?” Mason asked, clearing his throat as he watched William’s eyes light up in amusement. With the door opened like this he really got a strong whiff of florals and cleaning supplies, almost strong enough to make him cover his nose. It burned at his eyes and assaulted his nose; he prayed he didn’t mess this whole thing up with that stupid nasally voice he got when his nose ran. Sometimes he truly wished William would have chosen a different occupation.

 

“I’m sorry, we’re closed for the day.” The black haired man was toying with him now, blue eyes shining with mirth. When he saw his “customer’s” face begin to fall, however, William was quick to remedy the situation. “But, I’m sure I have at least one I could give you.” He had already begun walking back into the shop before he finished his thought, expecting Mason to follow him, as he did. They passed multiple displays of the new seasonal flowers and a few year round selections before they came to stop before the roses. Without prompting, Mason selected one of the brightest reds left in the bunch and handed it to his boyfriend, still holding onto his role as the customer. 

 

The florist carried it to the front desk where he carefully wrapped it up and secured it with a ribbon before handing it back to the other man. “Who’s the lucky guy or gal?” He asked, propping his head in his palm, elbow resting on the counter.

Mason inspected the flower in his hand, careful not to prick himself. He hummed in thought for a moment, as if he was truly considering the question. “My boyfriend. I think he deserves a simple rose and much more on such a holiday.” He smiled as he set the rose in front of William and set the card along side it, feeling his nerves begin to pick up again. 

 

William was pleased, ecstatic to receive something so simple, yet elegant and complex. Looking up at the brunet and receiving a nod, he straightened up and picked up the card, briefly scanning the cover before flipping it open and reading over the neatly written cursive inside. Mason always wrote with such elegance that only seemed fitting for his personality and he was a bit jealous he managed to have neat handwriting and an even greater handle on the English language itself. 

 

_ Dear William, _

 

_ It has been around five years since you first came to this town in hopes of making a name for yourself with your stunning (and just a bit irritating) flowers. And it’s only been a mere four years since I finally learned how to be a normal human being and ask you out instead of just stare at you, which, yes, was a bit odd now that I truly reflect on it these few moments while I write this.  _

 

_ I, Mason Gleeful, have completely and utterly fallen in love with you, and no matter how embarrassing it may be to write and say it, it’s true. You are the light of my life, the North Star that will always lead me back home, and I couldn’t be more grateful to you for putting up with me for as long as you have, and while I am running out of space and this is becoming harder to write, would you do me the honor of saying yes? _

 

_ Forever yours, _

_ Dipper _

 

William didn’t know when he had begun crying, but the tears streaming down his face let him know that it was indeed happening. While he had been reading, Mason had loved to kneel in front of him, fiddling with the box in his hands as he waited, face hot with embarrassment. It was so cheesy, sappy, unlike him in many ways, but William was the sappy type, and he secretly was as well. Though, it didn’t help him internally cringe every time he remembered what he has written down in ink, to forever mark the card and this valentine’s day for as long as they remained together. 

 

The laugh that bubbled from William’s lips was watery and thick with emotion, his hands shaking as he set the card down and directed his blurry gaze to the man before him. Mason cleared his throat and held eye contact for a few moments before he had to look away. “William Cipher.” He began, his own voice wavering. “The universe is vast and the world large, but here we are together, forever I hope. I can see the stars twinkle in your eyes and in your smile, and you are the sun the brightens up my day.” He paused again, popping open the ring box to show the simple silver band inside, a few sapphire stones decorating it. “Will you continue to show me the wonders of the universe in the simplicity of mundane life and grant me the gracious honor of having you as my husband?” Mason concluded, peering up at his beloved to gauge his reaction. 

William nodded his head furiously, babbling his approval in broken sobs and even worse English. Relief flooded through Mason as he stood and slid the ring onto his finger, admiring it as he held his fiance in a hug, allowing the smaller man to curl into his hold and sob to his heart’s content. And if it was to ever be brought up, the wetness in his own eyes was from the allergies, and not his actual emotions. After a few moments of steady breathing, William pulled away and wiped his eyes. “This really makes my gift seem so insignificant in comparison.” He muttered as he left the room for a moment, returning with a sealed off tube, Inside was an antique map of the constellations, something he figured Mason would enjoy from his intense interest in space. It was a bit hard to find when his fiance owned most antique things, but the spark of interest in his lover’s face was well worth the hunt. 

“Happy Birthday.” William whispered, as if he’d just remembered it, gently turning Mason’s attention away from the map so he could steal a kiss off his lips

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, to you.” Mason hummed in reply, a grin tugging at his lips. This was, by far, the most successful and rewarding birthday he’d ever experienced in his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? any requests?


	12. Nickname

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William has a special nickname for Mason only he is allowed to use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this instead of sleeping
> 
> Hi I'm not dead.
> 
> I don't expect to be updating this often as I have 293263 other things to do but I was inspired and this just,,, happened

It's cold, winter clinging onto the beginnings of spring, with gentle winds that chill to the bone and skies cooled to an icy white. It's quiet, at night, as the manor rests under the moonlight and twinkling stars. Will thinks, it's a sleepy place, as he stands in the young master's office, watching, observing, him pour his attention over countless books on magics long forgotten, glasses nearly tipping off his nose. He stands, off to the side, listening to the ticking of the clock and the flip of pages in the dimmed light, but Mason seems unaffected by the background noise, filling the space with his own hushed murmurs. It's evening, late night, or early morning but Will can't tell. He can feel the beginnings of sleepiness blur the edges of his vision and he knows, knows well, that it must be worse for his companion. 

"Mason," His soft voice slices through the silence, loud even though quiet, and it's enough to almost make him jump. The younger doesn't even spare him a glance as he switches books in front of him, and Will is tempted to clear the desk himself. He takes, instead, careful steps closer to the desk. His joints creak in stiffness, and his shoes make soft shuffles as he glides over the carpeted, floor, stopping just shy of the dark stained desk. He stands, still, with his hands politely folded in front of him, head tilted just slightly downward to continue his gaze on the other. 

"Mason," he tries again, voice wavering with uncertainty. It's late, later than it has a right to be, and the young man needs to sleep, but if Will pushes too hard he may snap, as he's already strung tight. He sighs, soft and harmless, as he gently closes the books around the desk, careful to avoid the ones in Mason's grasp as he sets them back in their proper places on the shelves one by one, giving Mason a few more moments to puzzle out his current thoughts. Will returns, as quickly as he'd fled, palms now pressed to the soft wood, leaning in just so that he can be seen from Mason's peripherals. 

"Macy," Will doesn't pout, but his lips press tighter together, a small change in his demeanor to give way his distress. Mason's gaze snaps up to him then, jaw clenched in what can only be bitter acceptance as he sits back, ignoring the pops in his back as he does so. 

"What, William?" His voice is muted if the usual bite, perhaps from the tiredness, or fondness, Will can't be sure. The demon smiles, small and sweet, as he reaches forward, slow, cautious, to remove his glasses and set them aside, sliding the last few books away after. He doesn't respond for some time, letting the room lapse back into still silence as he places away the reading material alongside the rest. He can feel Mason's eyes on him, tired and impossibility blue, but he waits, lingers at the bookcase for another moment before meeting his eye. 

"It's time to rest, now." Will says, motioning with his hand towards the door. Mason says nothing, but they both know he won't put up any resistance. It's late, they're tired, exhausted, and Will had pulled his trump card. Will offers Mason a polite bow as the latter stands, ignoring his grumbles ignoring formalities when they're alone. Will follows after the young master as he always does, hot on his heels as they weave through the corridors towards the residential wing, ready to retire for the night. It's quiet here, too, and Will's fingers tingle with the desire to run through Mason's hair and muse the curls that have already been broken apart by the man's on restless fingers. He wants, greatly, to smooth the furrow between his brows, and kiss a sleepy smile onto his lips, and whisper all the sweetness and praises in his ear that he doesn't get through the day but deserves.    


Will thinks, he's too far gone whilst he sits comfortably on their shared bed, a book in hand. It's a romance, much different from his own but still enjoyable nevertheless and he wonders, briefly, if all romance is meant to be this way. Mason sets his amulet gently, oh-so gently, into its velvet lined box before he, too, makes his way to bed. He moves with the sluggishness of animals near hibernation, calm and sleepy, trusting of the time passing to provide well. Will smiles up at him, a quiet murmur of greeting offered to him as he settles in. It's warmer, here, in bed together and Will enjoys the time they get to spend in each other's company. There's a featherlight kiss pressed to his temple, his cheek, his clothed shoulder, an arm protectively, securely, around his waist and resting heavily in his lap. 

Will feels, deeply, the surge of fondness swell in his heart until he feels almost bursting, and he closes his book, and he lays down beside his lover, and he runs his hand through soft chocolate curls. The lights are off, but the sun begins to filter warm light into the bedroom, and Mason seems unbothered by it. His face is relaxed, lips slightly parted as he breathes shallow in sleep and Will, he's fighting against the fuzzy vision and the tingling limbs and the sluggish thoughts for just another few seconds of this scene, even if he's seen it many times over. He feels close to tears, as he smooths his thumb between Mason's eyebrows, pressing into the furrow there until he relaxes, and he continues on his way down the slope of his nose and the apple of his cheeks and his jawline. His skin is soft, taken care of, beneath Will's fingers and Mason doesn't even stir, completely vulnerable and at the demon's mercy.

It's cold in spring when winter whispers seductive words of slumber in its ear and coaxes it back a few weeks, but Will doesn't mind. He doesn't mind the cold feet pressed to his equally cold calves, he doesn't mind the almost too hot breath against his face or the heavy arm on his waist. He doesn't mind Mason staying up far too late for what's considered healthy for his human body. Will doesn't mind. He's in love. He's in love with the idea of being in love. He believes Mason is in love too.  It's easy, he thinks, being in love. It comes naturally, as if he's always had it seeded inside him, waiting to be watered. Will had never experienced an emotion as all consuming and giving as love, and it warms him, from the inside, more than any magic could. Mason is good, to him, even if all the rational evidence points in the opposite direction. Will will, without a doubt, support Mason no matter what path he chooses, offering his blind aid and admiration.

Will likes to think Mason is in love too. He lets Will call him silly names like Macy and lets him interrupt his studies with his silly questions. He smiles at Will when he thinks he isn't looking and he tries, very much, to offer as much indirect affection as he can. Habitual times, like now, sleeping in the same bed, are easy for him to show, express, his own form of love even if he won't, can't, say it verbally. His lips are warm, always, when he kisses Will, and he tries to be gentle. No one is gentle with Will like he needs, deserves, and Mason tries to ignore the guilt it makes him feel. He's stuck, for now, in a position he has to suffer from, watching the poor treatment of his lover. In the morning Will won't be by his side. He'll be in his own room, closet, changing for the day and beginning his chores.

It's cold, then, to Mason, to be left alone even when it's no fault of theirs. He loves, clings to, these few moments he can have Will to himself, and he likes to think, maybe just once, Will might stay sleeping in his arms in the morning. Will closes his eyes, curling his hands, gently, into Mason's sleep shirt, head tucked under his chin. It's comforting, at night, to feel surrounded by his presence and scent of old books. Will wishes, too, he could stay there for longer than he should, and see Mason wake up naturally, see his eyes flutter open and focus, see the sleepy smile on his face at the sight of Will's presence.

He might call him Macy then, if only to see the lazy scowl he makes every time Will says that cursed name, a giggle on his lips. He likes the name Macy, something only he can call Mason and it tickles his tongue when he says it. It's reserved for late nights, for quiet times alone in innocent intimacy, where they can smile, and touch, and kiss, and hold without worry someone may disapprove. Will thinks, knows, he's in love with the human, in the evening, late night, early morning of the winter cold spring, where they sleep together in warmth, a smile and "I love you, Macy," on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like kudos, comments are nice. I respond to each comment myself within 24 hours, so if that's incentive enough great.
> 
> Uhh I'll see y'all next time I update which maybe a chapter rewrite, or a new oneshot we'll see


	13. SCA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SCA secretary William gives his first speech of the year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an underdeveloped idea but I crave to write more

William can count one one hand the amount of times he's stood before a crowd, been the sole focus of their attention in rapt silence as he inhaled, exhaled. The pregnant pause between his intake of breath and the release in the form of words was deafening and he could hear ringing, his own heartbeat drowning out his thoughts and the scuffles of the audience. He stood, frozen, at the podium, eyes transfixed on the school's logo printed on the middle of the gym floor, gleaming under the white lights. He'd never noticed, really, the fine details that went into their logo, the contrasting colors, the school motto, the mascot, but perhaps this wasn't the right time to be appreciating mediocre art.

His lips are bitten raw, red and angry, when they part and his hands hold firm to the sides of the solid podium in hopes he's not shaking. His feet and legs are numb where he stands but that's all secondary to the need, the forced will to speak and be heard by his peers, as is what he's stood up there to do. “Good morning, students and staff—” William can't help the shattering crack of his voice as he tries to swallow down his nervousness. He can hear, faintly, the snickers to his far right but he hasn't the time to be embarrassed, not when  _ he's _ boring holes into his back with his stare. William takes a step back, a moment to clear his throat before he begins again and this time his voice is clearer, more put together unlike how he feels.

“My name is William Cipher and I am your current SCA secretary.” It's smooth, rolls off his tongue like he's said it a million times, and perhaps he has with how much he's practiced this spiel in the mirror. An easy smile takes over his face, a charisma he's channeled from some other source he can't pinpoint at the moment. “I would like to welcome you to another wonderful year at Gravity Falls High School.” He says, and he means it. William loves his school, the students, the staff. His chest puffs with pride when he speaks about it, when he thinks about how successful they've been these last four years of his attendance but of course, it's mostly  _ his _ iron fist that's keeps everything smooth and orderly. Perhaps William is just a pawn, a sacrificial piece for the greater good but he can't find it in himself to mind, to protest. Confrontation has never been his strong suit.

William let's his gaze sweep across the sea of his fellow students, regaining some of his footing and surging onward. The words are heavy on his tongue but he pushes them out, hearing them whistle and feedback on his retainer. “For some of us it is our last year to walk these halls, to attend these assemblies, to polish ourselves before we're thrown out into the real world, and for some of us it's just the beginning. I'd like to believe we can find some semblance between these two extremes, to bring together the unsure and the already-checked-out.

My job, as your SCA secretary, is to listen to our students, to bring attention to the wants and the needs and everything in between so that we can be the best we can be.” William smiles wide, head held high and shoulders relaxed. He can still feel  _ his _ eyes on him but it feels softer, somehow. He must be doing an alright job. There's a click to his tongue before he speaks again, an overzealous accident but it rings out in the gym all the same. “I humbly implore you to make this year the best it can be, and allow me, us, to assist in your dreams this upcoming year. It will be my honor to serve you this last time. Thank you.”

He's done, he knows. His knees are shaking, his smile weak and he stiffly turns and glides back to his seat,  _ him _ taking his place. He can't say he's ever felt so relieved to pass the baton, to give up the spotlight, but the relief comes crashing overhead in a strong wave, nearly driving him to tears. William preservers, even if there are tears building at the corner of his eyes and he wants to relinquish his office position in that very moment. William can count on one hand the number of times he's held the spotlight, but each and every time has only been a glimmer to the radiance of  _ him. _

There's no one that commands attention like  _ him _ , no one that keeps breath stuttering, bodies precariously leaning forward to soak up his every word.  _ His _ smile is disarming,  _ his _ words subtle knives. William can only stare at the expanse of  _ his _ back, the navy blazer neatly fitted to  _ his _ body as  _ he _ stands, posture perfect, to give  _ his _ opening statements to the student body. William is just a warm up, a teaser, to ease the new students in before the brutal assault of charisma and hypnotic charm. William has never escaped  _ his _ words unscathed, lingering on awed when they so much as share a glance. He can't blame the people around him from drawing into the flame, ignoring instinctual fears of being burned. William himself had been pulled in like a moth, dancing around to be toyed with by the flickering fire.

William owed everything he was to  _ him _ . He'd started out his freshman year as a nobody, a nameless face in the crowd with abysmal social skills and even worse spacial awareness. He'd held, steadfast, to grades alone to keep him afloat in this jack-of-all-trades world but even that wasn't enough.  _ He _ , however, found something great in William. An organization system unrivaled, a penmanship near perfection, an eye for detail others could only dream of.  _ He _ had picked him up and polished William until he shined. Together they'd risen high, tackling all the obnoxious hurdles during their first year to be able to swipe the SCA offices, to build an elite team for total domination. But, William supposed, that was all  _ his _ doing after all. There were very few that could challenge the SCA president, Mason Gleeful.


End file.
